Oh yes, yes, yes! I'm glad to tell you, you, you, that Roger Ibbotson with flames for everyone has launched a new hedge fund designed to profit from lesser-known stocks. Or so they say, the voices. It is called the Zebra Global Liquidity Arbitrage fund. But you knew that already. You either read the title of this post, or you're so tuned in to all this hedge fund shit that you don't need someone like me to tell you anything about it.
O Master, tell them about Roger's burning in the desert of our love. They think they know it all, but they don't know about Roger's burning.
O my child, I have no idea who reads this blog. They may know. They may not. I get other shamans, and mystical children such as yourself. I also get quite a few squares passing through. They take one look at my deranged prose, my new form, my sick technique, and say to themselves, 'Oh dear, Jane Austen was never like this. What a load of rubbish!' But, of course, these people are dead in their heads.
O Master, Roger's burning?
Roger's burning, Roger's burning, Roger's burning, he was burning, my eyes, he was burning, I saw him dancing in flames, in my mystic head, which was crowded with the voices of all the ghosts of the dead ... financiers, in the night beneath the moon, in astral sands, with astral sky in our eyes, because you were there too, with me, altogether, we were, and anger was bleeding from a hole in the ground, where the demons came from, that we pushed back, because they were not welcome in the desert of our love, and Roger's burning gave birth to the Zebra Global Liquidity Arbitrage fund, in this night, almost like a ceremony, the best night since that ceremony, when we all lost ourselves, found ourselves, and were changed forever.
This is the beautiful truth of Roger Ibbotson's burning. Anger could not touch it. I think we can all learn something from this episode.
O my child, love will take us higher.
O Master, tell them about Roger's burning in the desert of our love. They think they know it all, but they don't know about Roger's burning.
O my child, I have no idea who reads this blog. They may know. They may not. I get other shamans, and mystical children such as yourself. I also get quite a few squares passing through. They take one look at my deranged prose, my new form, my sick technique, and say to themselves, 'Oh dear, Jane Austen was never like this. What a load of rubbish!' But, of course, these people are dead in their heads.
O Master, Roger's burning?
Roger's burning, Roger's burning, Roger's burning, he was burning, my eyes, he was burning, I saw him dancing in flames, in my mystic head, which was crowded with the voices of all the ghosts of the dead ... financiers, in the night beneath the moon, in astral sands, with astral sky in our eyes, because you were there too, with me, altogether, we were, and anger was bleeding from a hole in the ground, where the demons came from, that we pushed back, because they were not welcome in the desert of our love, and Roger's burning gave birth to the Zebra Global Liquidity Arbitrage fund, in this night, almost like a ceremony, the best night since that ceremony, when we all lost ourselves, found ourselves, and were changed forever.
This is the beautiful truth of Roger Ibbotson's burning. Anger could not touch it. I think we can all learn something from this episode.
O my child, love will take us higher.
